


The Lasagna Offensive

by Danieladelucia



Category: National Treasure (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Food, Jealousy, M/M, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26232412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danieladelucia/pseuds/Danieladelucia
Summary: “Just — I think I know what I’m going to do. For Riley.”Abigail watched him as he drained his scotch, something almost triumphant in his expression. “Do I even want to know?” she asked tiredly.Ben smirked. “Let’s just say, it’s the lasagna Offensive.”“Nope,” she said, looking for her ringing phone “Definitely do not want to know.”
Relationships: Benjamin Franklin Gates/Riley Poole
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	The Lasagna Offensive

"Sorry I’m late" Abigail said with a sigh as she sat down across from Ben at the restaurant where they had agreed to meet for dinner, a dinner which had already been rescheduled several times due to "treasure hunt" and once because of a stomach bug Armitge picked up in school.

He and his now ex-wife were divorced when she decided she wanted a baby, so here's the baby, but of Connor, Abigail's new husband.

“Not a problem, you just need to catch up” he said, tucking his phone back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and draining his glass of scotch as if proving a point.

Abigail rolled her eyes even as she flagged down their waitress. “I’ll have a glass of mimosa,” she said, “and my friend will I’m sure take a refill.”

“Of course,” their waitress said. “Are you two ready to order, or do you need a few minutes to look at the menu?”

Ben glanced at Abugail, who shook her head. “No, I think we’re ready,” she said. “I’ll take the salmon salad, dressing on the side.”

She looked expectantly at Ben, whose brow was furrowed. “I’ll have the baked ziti” he said, handing his menu back to the waitress before raising an eyebrow at Abigail. “Are you not hungry?”

“Can’t I just want a salad?” she asked mildly, taking a sip of water. When Ben’s expression didn’t change, she sighed. “Fine. I had an unplanned big lunch.”

“You could’ve cancelled" he said.

“And then you and I wouldn’t have dinner until the thanksgiving" she pointed out "Besides, I still have to eat something.”

Ben half-smiled. “Fair point.” The waitress returned with their drinks and he raised his scotch glass in a silent toast before taking a sip. “So what was the unplanned big lunch?”

Abigail waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing exciting, I promise,” she told him. “Riley swung by the precinct with some leftovers for us, and you know what his cooking’s like.”

Following the divorce of the two occupants of the table, Ben had moved in with Riley who had freed up space for him by moving the computers, cases, modems, boxes and junk he kept in a room, which also decided that at least one of them would had to learn to cook, needless to say, Ben hadn't been the one to engage in this business. He absolutely could not say that the boy's first attempts had been excellent, he vomited like four, five times perhaps? it no longer mattered, before a dish could be considered acceptable. After months and months of Riley making breakfast and dinner, because they were both too busy at lunch to eat, Ben could tell he didn't miss Abigail's cooking at all.

Ben’s smile widened. “I certainly do,” he said. “And what were these leftovers from?"

Suddenly, Abigail seemed unable — or unwilling — to make eye contact. “Actually-,” she said, tracing her finger along the rim of her wine glass. “He apparently made some food for a friend.”

“A friend,” Ben repeated, skepticism plain in his voice. Ben had flown to another state for two days for a conference he absolutely had to attend, his roommate had decided not to follow him because, in the exact words "if you find out another treasure, I'll have to take vacation from work, and God Ben , at least one of us has to do a real job ". He returned that day after lunch and had only time to leave the suitcase in their apartment before going to the current dinner.

Abigail shrugged. "Riley rans into one of his professors from the school—”

Recognition crossed Ben’s face, followed almost immediately by an odd, closed look. “Of course,” he said tonelessly, taking another sip of scotch, “Bill Tench.”

She glanced up at him. “I’ll take it you know him?” she asked, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.

Ben’s expression didn’t change. “You could say that,” he said. “By reputation alone, if nothing else, Riley talked about him, a few times .”

There was something grim in the way he said it, and Abigail cleared her throat, clearly trying to hurry them off the subject. “Anyway,” she said, in a forcibly cheerful kind of way, “they got together recently to catch up on old times and obviously Riley made dinner for him.”

She said it like it was the end of the subject, but judging by the look on Ben’s face, it wasn’t. “What did he make for them?” he asked.

“I don’t see how that’s important—” she started, breaking off when he just gave her a look. “Lasagna.”

Bens expression twisted slightly. “Of course he did,” he murmured, something bitter creeping into his tone.

Abigail sighed. “Ben—” she started, and he just waved a dismissive hand.

“It’s fine,” he said, giving her a tight smile. She sighed again. “Don’t do this,” she warned, taking a sip of wine.

“Do what?” he asked innocently, and it was Abigail’s turn to answer him with just a look. “I told you, it’s fine.” He picked up his glass of scotch but didn’t take a drink from it, just swirling the amber liquid. “You know, I was reading an article in the Washington Post the other day.”

“Oh?” 

“Yes,” he said, though he paused as their waitress returned with their food, watching disapprovingly as she picked at her salad. “It was about lasagna.”

Abigail sighed. “Ben—”

“And how the way to a man’s heart in Washington City is through lasagna.” Though he said it conversationally enough, his tone was belied by the way he stabbed his pork chop with his knife, his expression dark.

Abigail drained her wineglass and made eye contact with their waitress, who hurried to get her another one. “Ben” she said firmly, feeling a little bit too much like she was about to talk Armitage down from one of his wilder fantasies and wondering what it said about her best friend that talking to him was sometimes like talking to her two-year-old, “Riley was not trying to get to Tench' heart.”

“You don’t know that,” he muttered.

Abigail’s patience ran out. “You’re right, I don’t,” she said, somewhat sourly. “But seeing as how he’s made lasagna for literally everyone that you and I both know at one point in time or another, I somehow think it’s more likely that you’re reading too much into this.”

“Or you’re not reading enough into this,” he shot back. “You know how Riley feels about older and clever figures, so if he wasn’t trying to get to his heart — or at least into his pants — then what was he doing?”

She ignored his friend question. “And I also know for a fact that within the last month Riley has also made lasagna for my son while he was babysitting, so unless you know something about his relationship with Armitage that I don’t…”

Ben made a face “that’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not, and neither is a grown man sulking because his friend made lasagna for another man” shepointed out evenly. 

Almost as if against his will, the corners of Ben’s mouth twitched towards a smile. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Besides,” she added, almost sweetly, after he had taken several bites, “why do you care if Riley made lasagna for his former professor?”

Ben choked on the bite of ziti he had just taken. “I...don’t?” he attempted weakly, and when she raised an eyebrow, he sighed and scowled down at his dinner “I care because I–I—”

He couldn’t seem to get the words out, and Abigail let him flail for a minute before supplying innocently, “Because you wish he was making lasagna for you?”

Ben's eyes flashed up to hers and then away. “Something like that, anyway,” he muttered.

“And have you tried, um, telling him you want him to make you lasagna?”

“Can we use our actual words, please?”

“Fine,” she said. “Have you tried telling him that you have feelings for him?”

“I don't have f-" she laughed about him "-fine! I wanted to,” Ben admitted, his ears flushing red with embarrassment. “Before, anyway. But now…”

“But now what?” 

“But now I think it’s going to take more than me just telling him.”

Abigail eyed him warily, noticing a particularly gleam in his eye that she hadn’t seen since Ben had found a way out from from a treasure room that collapsed on them “What are you planning?” she asked, suspicious.

Ben just shrugged as he finished the rest of his dinner in what had to have been record time. “Nothing,” he said, in a way that clearly suggested he was lying. “Just remembered something else from that Post article.”

She sighed. “Didn’t we agree—?” she started, but Ben cut her off.

“No, not like that,” he assured her. “Just — I think I know what I’m going to do. For Riley.”

Abigail watched him as he drained his scotch, something almost triumphant in his expression. “Do I even want to know?” she asked tiredly.

Ben smirked. “Let’s just say, it’s the lasgna Offensive.”

“Nope,” she said, looking for her ringing phone “Definitely do not want to know.”

A few nights later, Ben was walking into the building where Riley worked when his presence was absolutely required, the night guards had recognized him from the times he had broken in to pick Riley off work and go in search of new treasure, which was good, because he could only imagine the kinds of questions he would have to endure, carrying a large, foil-covered baking dish into the building after business hours.

He made his way to where Riley should be working pausing to admire what was, frankly, a fairly pathetic sight, the man hunched over his desk, a single light casting shadows across his face that made him look even more tired than usual. His jacket was hung over the back of his chair, his shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows, and his convers were left in opposite side on the floor.

Riley looked like an exhausted wreck, and still Ben’s heart swelled at the sight.

“Knock, knock,” he called, and he looked up, startled.

“B- Ben?” he asked, running a tired hand across his face. “What are you doing here?”

“Heard you’ve been working some late nights recently,” he said. “Figured I’d repay the favor you did for me many, many times over and bring you some food.”

He held up the baking dish and Riley’s eyes lit up. “My hero,” he said eagerly, watching as Ben approached and set the foil-covered dish down on his desk. “What place did you get takeout from?”

“No takeout,” he said casually, passing Riley a plastic fork. “I made some lasagna."

“You made it? Ben you can't cook, i remember when you said that” he asked, somewhat skeptically. “Why?”

Ben shrugged, peeling back a corner of the aluminum foil. “Because you’re always making breakfast and dinner for me, and for someone else occasionaly” he said. “Figured it was past time I returned that particularly favor as well.”

Riley's eyes fluttered closed as the first whiff of sospicious lasagna hit his nose, “I love lasgna.” he told to Ben, scooching his chair forward to be able to reach it better. He paused, his fork hovering just above the dish. “You know, my mom sent me this article from the Washington Post the other day that was about Lasagna.”

Ben’s mouth went dry. “Oh, really?” he asked weakly, staring at the stack of casefiles on Riley's desk as if they were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

To his surprise, the boy just chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, and Ben chanced a glance at him just in time to see his dimples deepening as he grinned. “About how the way to a man’s heart is through lasagna, of all things.”

“Well, it seems as good a way as any, I guess,” he said with a forced laugh.

"Sure, but I make it whenever I gotta cook a meal for someone because you can’t go wrong—” He broke off, making a face. “Well, unless you’ve got a vegetarian or someone who’s gluten-free, but I think we can all agree that was a one-time mistake I’m probably not gonna make again.” 

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Ben muttered, and Riley laughed before continuing.

“But seriously, saying lasagna is the way to someone’s heart is like saying that pizza’s the way to someone’s heart. Everyone likes pizza. You’re not winning anyone over with just pizza, y’know?”

“So what’s your way to someone’s heart, then?” he asked.

Riley shrugged. “It’s gotta be something that’s either special to them or something special to you.” He glanced up at Ben then away again. “That’s what speaks to the heart.”

"Like if, say, you made lasgna for someone but using a recipe that meant a lot to the person?”

“Sure, that’d be—” Riley broke off, eyes widening in realization as he did a fairly comical double-take, looking from the baking dish up to Ben. “Wait a minute. You don’t mean to tell me—”

“Your mother says hello, by the way,” Ben said, a grin breaking across his face, and he took a particularly self-satisfied bite of the lasagna he had prepared using the Riley family recipe.

“You made my ma’s lasgna?” Riley croaked incredulously, still gaping at Ben. “Holy shit, Ben—”

“It was nothing,” he said dismissively, but Riley shook his head.

“No, it really wasn’t,” he said firmly. He looked back down at the lasgna, his expression unreadable for a moment. When he looked back up at Ben, every line of exhaustion had disappeared from his expression, replaced by something soft that made Ben’s chest feel warm. “Why would you do this for me?” he asked quietly.

Bsn shrugged again, his own smile softening as he looked at Riley stupid and beautiful face. “Well, like you said, the best way to someone’s heart…”

He trailed off and Riley beamed at him for a moment before leaning back in his chair and laughing, a full, deep belly laugh that, to Bdn at least, sounded full of delight and maybe something like wonder. “Jesus Christ, Ben! you didn’t have to do all this just to get to, y’know, that. All you had to do was say something, anything. Like, i don't know: Riley we were going to die together several times and I realized I like you!"

“I wanted to,” Ben said honestly, too honest, perhaps, for the moment they were sharing, though he knew if he didn’t say it now, there was a decent chance he’d never find a time to say it. “But then I didn’t and now…” He shrugged. “Now I’m years and years too late but at least I brought lasagna.”

“No,” Riley said, standing and smoothing his tie in a gesture he had almost certainly picked up from Ben at some point. “You made my ma’s Lasagna for me.” He crossed to him, slotted himself between Ben's legs, close enough that the fact that they weren’t touching was a minor miracle. “And as far as I’m concerned, you’re right on time.”

Ben didn’t know if he or Riley closed the space between them first, but in the end, it didn’t matter — Riley’s hand was cupping his cheek, Riley’s lips were on his, and the only thing that did matter was him and his Riley- and a baking dish full of lasagna that was perilously close to getting pushed off the desk entirely.

So Ben broke the kiss far too soon to tell Riley, a little breathlessly, “You know, I didn’t take you as a man who would be willing to let perfectly good lasagna go to waste.”

Riley rolled his eyes. “We can always heat it up,” he told, leaning in to kiss him again. But after only a moment, it was Riley who broke the kiss. “Then again, it doesn’t taste as good as leftovers as it does when it’s fresh.”

“Then by all means, sit, eat. Or your mother will skin me alive for letting you starve.”

Though Riley made a face at that, he nonetheless sat back down at his desk, pulling the baking dish to him and digging in to the lasagna that Ben had made him. And as he closed his eyes in bliss as he took the first bite, Ben allowed himself a small, triumphant smile.

It looked like the lasagna offensive had worked, and he had found his way to Ben’s heart after all.

What Ben never knew, was that his lasagna really sucked, but Riley was so happy and in love that he ended up eating it all, and clearly being sick for the whole next day.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone,  
> I am the woman of little known fandoms, I only wrote two stories on ao3 and I wrote them with the sole purpose of repopulating these dark sections where there are very few stories.  
> I'm Italian and absolutely couldn't choose an American dish or anything like that, because guys, let me tell you, you're missing out on a world of delicious food. If I can, I leave you a photo of a plate of lasagna below.  
> I hope you enjoy my work, if anyone reads it, please leave kidos and a comment to let me know if you liked it. See you soon💗
> 
> https://images.app.goo.gl/JRPCLsQfvX5rB8iM8


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